Choices: Shooting out the Light
by livengoo
Summary: Third of Choices. Many choices come home to roost, and Sam and Daniel work out a few.


Choices: Shooting Out the Light.

By Livengood  
Usual disclaimers, we all know who they belong to. Just borrowing them and will return in good order.

A few spoilers for The Light.

Wind was whipping clouds across the evening sky as Sam Carter turned left and parked in front of Daniel Jackson's apartment building. She hesitated, then left her phone in the glove box and got out of the car.

She smelled rain and greening trees in the air that hadn't been there when she'd left. The sky was deep indigo and Daniel was standing on his balcony, a silhouette. Even from eight floors down she could see him tense, a silhouette gone suddenly still. He was just a shadow up there, backlit by the evening glow on the clouds. He straightened and turned, disappearing into his lightless apartment. She shook herself and walked into the lobby, wondering what look had been on his face.

His door was ajar, lights shining into the hall. She pushed it open nervously. "Daniel?"

"In the kitchen, Sam." His voice sounded just a little flat, distracted.

She turned the corner, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. "Hi."

"I'll have the tea ready in a minute." He was fussing with a cup and teabag, the kettle already over a high flame on the stove. "You should have called ahead. I could have . . ." He waved, taking in the bare kitchen counters that usually had a bowl of fruit or something.

"I came to see you, Daniel, not your groceries." She smiled at his grimace. "Besides, my kitchen looks the same. It's always take out the first night back."

"Still . . ." He shrugged.

"We're not on Abydos. You're a good host." He looked up at her words, startled, a barely-there-then-gone smile lighting his face for an instant before she went on. "And I wanted to catch you in your natural habitat."

"This isn't . . ." He stopped, looked around, eyes suddenly shuttered. His expression was carefully ironic, cheerful, when he finally met her eyes again. "You've been watching too much Discovery Channel, Sam. So. This is my natural habitat?"

She studied him a moment, then walked past to rummage in a cupboard. Turning, she shoved a coffee cup in his hands. "There. That's more like the guy I know."

His smile finally reached his eyes as he looked down at the cup, up at her. "You're exaggerating. Shamelessly."

"I"ve seen your stash, Daniel." She shared the grin, reaching out to tap on his cup. "You're like a wine snob except there's no cork to sniff."

"I have only one word for you, Major Carter." He held up a finger. "Chocolate."

"Got me!" She clutched her hands over her heart and staggered, laughing.

He smiled, shaking his head, and turned to the pot. "So. Earl Grey?"

"That's fine." She smiled, watching him fuss.

"You sure I can't get you . . ." He waved aimlessly at the kitchen again.

"No. Tea's fine."

"I wasn't expecting you." He glanced at her over the frames of his glasses, then pushed them back up his nose. "Everything all right?"

She blinked, unconsciously crossed her arms then made herself uncross them. "No. Nothing's wrong. I mean, what makes you think . . ."

His quizzical stare made her trail off, swallow hard. He smiled, lightning fast and gone before she could smile back. "You're a lousy liar, Sam."

"Do I hear the pot calling me black," she shot back.

"I can lie when I have to." He shrugged and turned his back, reaching for the kettle as it came to a noisy boil. "It's not something I'd brag about of course."

She stared at his back and swallowed the comment she'd been about to make, remembering that this was the man who'd successfully lied to Ra, among others. Not something he'd brag about, but still . . . She shook her head sharply, trying to focus on him again. "Why did you ask me if something was wrong, Daniel? Do you think it is?"

Busy hands paused for an instant, then finished making her tea. His face was calm when he turned to hand her the cup. "Everything's fine. Why wouldn't it be? I just got back from vacation in fact. Two weeks by the sea."

She held her cup between her hands, so warm it made her shiver in the cool air of his apartment. "Yeah. Umm. I just wanted to be sure you were okay, you know." She could have kicked herself for the clumsy words, wondering where the easy rapport with him had gone.

He was watching her with that dispassionate look, the one she'd seen on a hundred worlds, studying a culture, no judgment, not even excitement until he knew what he was seeing. "Why are you here?"

"To see you." That one was easy. She smiled brightly. "I know, two weeks and we're probably the last people you want to see but . . ." She stumbled to a halt again, caught up against honesty with nowhere to go. He'd said she was a lousy liar. She took a deep breath and tightened her fingers on the cup. "Okay. Okay. I was a little worried. You've been so quiet."

She tilted her head, looking into his eyes for the softening, the welcoming look she'd always found from him. And saw a flicker of something that was dark and complex. His smile was too bright. "I'm fine. No need to worry, Sam."

Something uneasy stirred in her gut as she looked back at him, wanting to believe him and seeing a too-quick smile, too-watchful eyes. "I know. It's just, it wasn't easy. Being stuck like that and withdrawing. You were great but I felt like two weeks of PMS in there."

"I had noticed," he drawled and that lightning smile reached his eyes again for an instant.

She grinned back. "Yeah, I figured you had. I nearly strangled the Colonel a couple of times."

"Me too." He brushed past her and into the living room, picking up a small stone and letting his fingers play idly across an etched surface. "The strangling Jack part, I mean, not the PMS."

She moved up to stand next to him, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't easy for any of us. We were . . . I was worried about you."

His head came up fast, eyes turning to look straight into her face. "Are you here as Sam or are you here as Major Carter?"

"Daniel?" She flinched back from the cold look in his eyes.

"Jack usually does the touchy-feely stuff." He stepped away from her just a little. Just enough to break the contact between them. "He's good at it."

Sam blinked and swallowed, hard. She opened her mouth, closed it, then forced out the words. "That hurt. I didn't deserve that."

His eyes flicked up to her face, away. A frown ridged the skin between his brows, and he rubbed his eyes like he was trying to rub away a headache. "I'm sorry. You're right."

"That's okay." She kept her voice soft, anger melting to puzzlement and worry. "Dan-"

He looked up and the weariness in his eyes stopped her cold. He sighed. "I'm not good company right now. I think you should leave, Sam."

"It's okay," she replied, intentionally misunderstanding him. She took a sip of her tea and watched him scowl.

"Let me rephrase that. I'd like you to leave now."

"Why? So you can go back on your balcony and brood? It's a little chilly for that kind thing."

He glared at her, straightening out of his slouch. "I didn't ask for company, Sam. Frankly, after two weeks I'd like to be alone for a while."

"And if I believed that I'd leave you alone." She glared right back.

"What part do I need to clarify for you, Major Carter? The part where I've spent two weeks trapped with you people? The part where you don't leave me alone for the length of time it takes to piss? Or the part where you and Jack give a little morale party for poor Daniel for two weeks like I'm going to hang myself if you treat me like an adult!"

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to send Jack to talk with you when you're being an ass? Well tough luck, Daniel, I gave him the night off!"

"Take the night yourself, Sam! I don't need you here!"

"I'm beginning to think what you need is a good kick in the rear!"

"What I need is a life!"

The two of them stared at each other, his words hanging in the silence between them. She could hear traffic eight floors down, and she could hear him swallow. He shut his eyes and spun away, stalking to stand in front of his window, staring out. "Look. Please leave. I'll call you tomorrow. I promise."

Sam walked up to stand beside him, looking out over the lights, brilliant against the moonless night. "Jack wanted to come."

He stirred next to her. His reflection in the window was a silhouette, dark against the warmly lit apartment mirrored there. "It isn't you. I don't want to see him tonight either."

His words were tinged with wry humor and she felt her own lips quirk in relief. "I'll tell him you said so."

"Please do. His ego needs adjusting once in a while."

"You're mine too, you know."

In the glass she saw his head turn, and looked up to meet his eyes. He was watching her, face unreadable, eyes with that shuttered look, endlessly patient. "What does that mean?"

She blinked. "It means I care. It means I notice that you've spent two weeks avoiding us and building walls and I worry."

He shrugged and smiled, another cool smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It was the light. You know that."

"I want to believe that." She felt a frown pulling her own brows together. "You have no idea how much I want to believe that."

"Then do." He looked away from her, back out, and she suddenly felt like he'd left the room, walked away from her. She reached out to grab his arm.

"Don't leave."

"What?" He was back with her in an instant.

"What you just did." She tightened her fingers on his arm, gave him a little shake. "You went away. From me, from everything for just a moment. You . . ."

"And you think I'M the one with the problem?" He smiled wryly at her.

She couldn't smile back. There was a tight feeling growing in the back of her throat. "I didn't even realize what it was until just now, but you go away, Daniel. You've been going away from us for a long time. It scares me."

"I'm sorry, Sam." He looked genuinely concerned. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here."

"What did you mean before?" She slid her hand down his arm to take his hand. "That you need a life?"

He snorted a small laugh. "Pity party bullshit, Sam. I didn't send an invitation?"

"No." She wove her fingers through his and didn't smile. "And it didn't sound like that to me."

"What did it sound like?" His tone was guarded, cautious.

A plane was flashing red and white lights, high over the city. "It sounded scary, Daniel. It sounded lost."

"Bitching and moaning, Sam. This is me, I do that."

She shook her head. "Please stop."

"Stop bitching and moaning?" His eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. "I'd explode."

She frowned. "You were right. You're a really good liar."

He froze, watching her, then his eyes flicked past her left ear. "I wouldn't lie to you."

She whispered, "You just did."

They stood quietly for a long time. She could feel his fingers go chill and the sweat on his palm. She didn't let go. He finally whispered back, "There are times I feel like a ghost."

Sam moved a little closer, still holding his hand. "Tell me."

He looked down at her, then up and out the window again. "I hate this. I hate feeling like this."

She waited again, holding tighter when he tried to pull his hand free. She didn't know what she'd do if he really tried, and was grateful when he stopped. "When I met you, it felt like I'd found a brother I never knew I had."

He turned his face away from her so all she could see was the corner of his jaw, his cheekbone. The muscles clenched and released in his cheek. "I used to be so good at this."

"At what?"

"At living." His shoulders rose and dropped with a long sigh. "I knew how to be satisfied with enough, Sam. I knew how to fit in my life."

She shut her eyes, tried to feel him, hear him, with all her attention. "You were feeling like this before the light, weren't you?"

"Oh yeah." His easy reply left a sadness deep under her ribs. "It took me a while to figure it out."

The words were still halting, cryptic. She didn't want to let go of him but she needed more. "I want a drink, Daniel. What do you have?"

He smiled at her. "Get me drunk and loosen my tongue?"

"Get us both drunk." She didn't smile back. "It's been so busy. Sometimes it's hard to hear you through the noise, you're so quiet."

A wonderfully genuine laugh answered her. "Tell that one to Jack." He pulled his hand away and turned back into his apartment, rummaging in a cupboard. "Merlot okay?"

"Sure. It'll be a treat."

"That's right. You drink wine like Jack drinks beer."

"Snob."

"In vino veritas." He held out a glass of rich, dark red wine. "So why did you give Jack the night off?"

"You know the Colonel." She sipped then stood tall, puffing her chest. "Sturm UND drang! I didn't think the fireworks would help."

He took his wine and curled into a corner of his couch, watching her. "So this is the low-impact intervention?"

"No." She frowned and chose a seat in the middle of the couch, almost touching his feet. "This is two very worried friends who're scared for you. Three, actually, although Teal'c doesn't say it in so many words."

Daniel paused, then brought his glass to his lips. "You really don't need to worry, Sam. I was on the right side of the railing. And my oven's electric."

She ignored the flimsy joke. "We're not worried about suicide, Daniel. That . . . well, that WAS the light. But . . ."

"But what can I say to convince you?" He actually met her eyes for the first time that evening.

"You can tell me the truth."

He blinked, then drank his wine quickly and refilled the glass. "About?"

She thought carefully about her words, chose them one at a time. "I'm haunted, Daniel. Jolinar's ghost is in my head. Whose ghost is in yours?"

He held the stem of his glass carefully, as though it were the most fragile thing in the world. "My own."

"Because of Sha're?"

He grimaced at her guess. "Yes. No. Not just her."

"You've lost a lot of people." She said it quietly, hoping he'd go on.

He let his head fall back against the couch, eyes shut. "I've lost myself."

The words were uninflected, calm, a simple statement of fact. She reached out her free hand, touched his knee. "I'm here."

His face scrunched up, like he was in pain. "No you're not."

"Daniel?"

He didn't open his eyes. His voice sounded calm, flat. "I made a mistake. I keep making the same mistake."

Sam thought through what she knew of him and shivered. "It's not a mistake to care."

Blue eyes flicked open and met hers again, and she almost wished they were shuttered now. "It's a mistake to care about people. People go away. I knew that once. I knew better."

"We didn't go away. I didn't."

"Didn't you?" His words challenged without fire. "Don't let anything stand between you and love, Sam. It's too rare. But never trust it."

She frowned, puzzled, and reached for his hand but he pulled it away. "Why are you doing this?"

"Go away, Sam." His words were soft, mournful. "This is too hard. Please just go away."

"Not until you explain." She reached and this time did manage to grab his hand. He tensed.

"Explain what?" His tone was suddenly sharp but still low, scalpel sharp. "I made a mistake. Years of them. I was an archaeologist but what am I now? I look at things and write about them but science is about learning and TEACHING. It's about sharing what you learn and what I learn will die with me. It's empty." He tapped his forehead and glared into her eyes.

"You know w-"

"I don't care why. It doesn't change the facts, does it? What you know gets taught even if it's just to a chosen few, but what I know is useless to the military. I write the papers and do the work and it sits there and gathers dust. Just like my life. I got my wife killed, Sam. I loved her and I got her killed. And I can't even raise her son. I'm useless to him. I betrayed his trust and thank god he stopped us cold. And I leaned on you and Jack and you . . ." He faltered, let his words trail off and swallowed hard. "I can't do that anymore."

"Do what? Trust us?" She came up on her knees, over him. "You're half right – you can't teach what you know. But it's not lost, Daniel. Even if you don't see it what you learn will be shared. It will. And you couldn't help Sha're."

He was watching her skeptically and she felt her righteousness fade. He shut his eyes, shut her out. "I know that. In my head I actually do know that I didn't kill her."

He was going away from her again. Sitting there beside her and too far away to touch. She opened her mouth to argue but the words she found were nothing she'd meant to say. "Daniel, you're my voice. I need you. You're my brother and you guide me through the world that refuses to stand still and stay true to the rules. You're not a teacher, Daniel. You explore. With me. You're our diplomat, our voice. Please don't go away."

He had opened his eyes and was watching her. "I didn't, Sam. You went away from me."

She froze where she was, staring into his sad, blue eyes. And tried to see from his eyes. The easy things, the knowledge, secrets, his wife, and . . . them. Her and Jack. Teal'c. "Daniel . . . I never meant . . ."

"It's okay."

"It's not. I didn't know. I thought we'd been . . ."

"Discreet?" He smiled at her but it was a chilly smile. "I didn't need a za'tarc test. It's okay, Sam."

"It's not okay." She shook her head sharply. "We screwed up. Me and the Colonel."

His smile gentled, warmed and saddened. "You didn't. You fell in love."

"No." She slumped down beside him. "We didn't. We just fell into lonely and needy and dumb."

"Sam?" Now his attention was on her, concern in his eyes.

"We worked it out, Daniel. Him and me. In vino veritas." She raised her glass and waggled it, shooting an ironic look towards him.

He didn't smile back, just looked sadder, further away. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." She grunted and shook her head. "Believe me, Daniel, that's the worst mistake I could make. I love the Colonel but that doesn't mean I love Jack O'Neill. And vice versa, I'm sure."

"Sam. Are you sure?"

She met his eyes and blinked. "You look so sad. Daniel, you're not a ghost."

His lips quirked into a smile that held no real humor. "Ghosts are spirits of the dead."

"Daniel Jackson's not dead. He's not an archaeologist, not really, and he's not a husband though I wish he were." She turned to face him and saw that she had his attention. "But he's not a ghost. Ghosts are spirits of the dead. You grew up, Daniel. You're a diplomat and our envoy and a little bit of a warrior too. Hell, Daniel, maybe you're more warrior than the rest of us put together because most days I think you're the one who'll really win us the war."

"I never wanted to be a warrior." His voice sounded lost, hurt. "I never wanted to be any of that."

"I know." She reached out to stroke his hair and he turned into the touch. "And I never wanted it for you. But that's who you are. And I'm proud of you."

"I'm not." He held very still, voice cracking just a little. "I'm not."

"Not yet. You've changed so much sometimes I can't remember who you were."

"I can't either." The words were choked.

"But I'm proud of you, Daniel. You're my little brother and I'm proud. And I won't leave you again."

"You can't promise that." He looked at her and his lips thinned. "You can't promise me that."

"I'm sorry. I let you get a long way away , Daniel." She kept her hand on his hair, needing to touch him. "We all got a long way from each other and maybe from ourselves. But I'm here now. Please stay."

He shut his eyes but he turned his face into her hand. She sat there, feeling warm, real flesh and bone and knew that it was just her and him sitting there, with not a ghost between them.


End file.
